CHAPTER TWO
1923 Words
CHAPTER TWO
FBI Special Agent Katie Winter stood outside the shack, g*n drawn, and checked her ammunition for the third time. She released the safety, took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and prepared for the worst.
There was a killer behind those doors, ready to take her life as soon as she would take his. A seasoned criminal, he’d broken out of the prison van on the way to the courthouse in Norfolk, Virginia, yesterday. He’d killed a guard and gone on the run. Now, he was holed up in here, armed and dangerous.
All around her, the SWAT team swarmed, ready for the dawn raid. Tension and focus sizzled in the air as she heard their murmured voices. She knew she had backup.
But that did not put her at ease. Relying on others was a sure way to get killed. She had seen it happen too many times. And this was her case. She would take the lead.
At five- foot-eight, with dark brown hair pulled back in a bun, and feeling much older than her 32 years, Katie was as good of a shot as all these SWAT men. She had taken down more killers than she wanted to remember in her ten years with the FBI. But each one brought something new and unpredictable.
She remembered the first case she worked. It was a routine affair, a simple bank robbery that went terribly wrong. She was the only one of her team to make it out alive.
She closed her eyes and tried to shake the image from her mind, but her thoughts became jumbled. She felt nauseous and the sounds around her mingled with the memories of gunshots and screams.
Breathing deeply, she suppressed the memories, forcing herself to stay focused.
She readied herself. Three… two… one…
“Go!” she yelled.
She kicked the door open with a mighty bang. It flew off the hinges, crashing to the side onto the dirt floor. Holding her breath, she ran inside, g*n at the ready as she led the way.
It all happened in a blur.
There he was. And as the cold morning light streamed into the dusty, tumbledown building, Katie saw he was not alone.
He had someone with him. He had taken a hostage.
Katie had been prepared to meet the killer and stop him in his tracks. But now she knew there was more at stake than just her own safety.
The fear for another innocent life clenched her stomach. She hadn't expected a hostage situation.
“Wait! Stay back!” she shouted to the team.
She stared at the man. Wiry, in his late twenties, with a shaved head and an athletic frame, he wore a black leather jacket and had a few days of scruff on his face. He had his g*n jammed into the woman’s temple.
Cowering and confused, the hostage was crying in terror. Her sobs only seemed to enrage him more.
“Drop your weapon!” Katie shouted. “Drop it now!”
“I don’t think so, lady,” the killer sneered. He smiled, and Katie saw blood staining his chin and neck. Whose blood, she wondered. Had he been wounded during the chase? Or was it the hostage’s?
"She got nothing to live for anyway.”
The words chilled her. His voice was deep and coarse. And the way he looked at the hostage, Katie knew he was going to kill her.
“Drop it!”
“Make me.”
Aiming carefully, Katie had him in her sights, ready to take the shot. If she could get a clean head shot, she could drop him before he could shoot the sobbing woman.
But, at that moment, a rookie SWAT agent burst in behind her and spooked him.
Jerking his g*n in the direction of his attackers, the killer fired three times. The shots exploded around her. Katie hit the floor, rolling, as the SWAT agent went down.
This was turning into a disaster. Dust billowed from the filthy floor, choking her, blinding her. She struggled into a kneeling position, blinking tears from her eyes, expecting at any moment to feel his bullet punch into her.
But, as the dust cleared, she saw to her astonishment that he had gone. And the hostage, too. He'd taken her with him.
She couldn't believe it. It was like he vanished.
Then she saw the open hole in the floor.
A trapdoor.
In a rush, the other three members of the SWAT team entered the shack.
“Quick, call a medic. This guy’s hurt,” the lead agent yelled. “You okay?” he asked Katie, his voice urgent.
“I’m fine. But he’s taken the hostage,” Katie could hear the tension thrumming in her own voice.
“This door must lead down to a cellar.”
Snapping on a flashlight, the lead agent shone it into the trapdoor, revealing a steep wooden staircase. He scrambled down, followed by the others.
Katie was about to follow. But then she thought again. She knew this killer. He was a master of misdirection, sneaky and slippery.
The backyard, she realized. The trapdoor might be a decoy. He wouldn't let himself be cornered down there. He would find a way to escape.
She had to stop him.
Gun in hand, ready to fire, she crept toward the shack’s back door. She guessed he wasn’t going to run blindly. Not with a SWAT team in pursuit. Instead, he would choose to double back, burst in and try to destroy the threat before escaping.
Were her instincts correct?
Hearing a breath of noise outside, she pushed it open, and gasped as she found herself face-to-face with the killer.
Holding the hostage, the woman's arm cruelly twisted up behind her back, he was pointing his g*n right at her.
She dropped to her knees, unable to risk firing on the hostage, just as he shot at her. The noise exploded in her ears. He must have missed by only an inch.
But, as she dropped, she saw her chance and fired at his outstretched arm, winging his elbow. Screaming, he dropped the woman. He turned and fled.
“He’s released her. Get her to safety!” Katie shouted to her team. “He’s run outside.”
She couldn’t let him get away again. She jumped up and sprinted in pursuit.
He stormed through the neglected backyard and into the thick weeds and thorns of the wild forest.
The chase was on.
The thought of losing him--or someone getting killed--was all that drove her.
The early rays of the sun were just peeking over the trees, lighting the way in front of her, but he was ahead, and he clearly knew the area better than she did. As she crashed behind, fighting through the undergrowth, she realized she had lost him in the thick vegetation. She guessed this area must be familiar terrain to him. He knew how to navigate through it. How to hide and how to circle back. He’d done it once. It was his modus operandi and he might do it again.
She paused, listening for any sound, standing as still as she could on the loose, shifting dirt and stones of the forest floor.
There was no birdsong, no rustling of leaves, nothing. The silence was unnerving.
Around her, the forest was dense and impenetrable, a place of dark shadows, sudden turns, and hidden danger.
She didn't hear the killer in the woods behind her.
She didn't hear any sound of footsteps or the swishing of his clothing. She didn't hear the sound of his breathing.
But she did hear something, sharp and frightening.
A snap of a twig behind her that made her jump.
And then, shockingly, his voice rang out, sharp and authoritative.
“Don’t turn around. My g*n is aimed at your head, and I’ll shoot if you move. Drop your weapon. Now.”
Katie’s heart raced. By circling back through the forest he knew so well, he’d effectively trapped her.
Her nightmares surged inside her. She knew she should try to shoot. But she couldn't. If she lifted her weapon, she would die.
She let go of the g*n and it fell to the ground.
At any moment she expected to feel the deadly punch of a bullet in the back. Or maybe he would go for a head shot and she would feel nothing at all. There would just be a burst of darkness and it would all be over.
"Move away," he whispered. "Move back."
Slowly, she backed three strides away, her shoes scrunching over stones.
“Now you can turn,” he ordered.
With her hands raised, she slowly turned.
He was standing in the path a few paces away, smiling. The expression was utterly evil. He was reveling in his power.
She knew his mindset from the research she’d done. He liked to kill up close and personal. To see the fear in his victims' eyes before he pulled the trigger.
He took another step toward her.
She wasn't going to let him win, but she had only a few moments left before she lost.
He was a few feet from her now, and she had to do something to distract him before he fired.
She inhaled deeply, making herself think, forcing herself to overcome the fear and to focus.
There was one thing he would never expect.
With a shout, she kicked into the dirt as hard as she could, sending up a spray of sand and stones. Instinctively, he flinched away, turning his head to protect his eyes. His g*n swung wide.
Seizing the moment, leaping forward, she attacked. With all the strength she could muster, she smashed her fists into his face.
The killer staggered backward, stumbling over a tree root. Blood poured from his nose and mouth.
"You b***h," he snarled.
He raised his g*n. She dove to the side.
He fired and the bullet whistled past her head as she lunged for his arm. Her hand smashed into his elbow, punching into the place where her bullet had winged him earlier.
He shrieked in agony. The g*n flew out of his hand and skidded across the stony soil. Lifting her knee, she jabbed it into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
He gasped, rolled onto his side, fighting for breath. She dove at him and slammed her knee into his gut once more.
He crumpled with a cry of agony.
Katie's hand closed around the back of his neck. She yanked his head back and brought her knee up into his face, smashing his nose.
Finally, he went limp.
She dropped him and he hit the dirt. The stony ground bit into her knees as she cuffed him.
She grabbed his g*n, and retrieved her own weapon.
Then she reached for her phone and called the SWAT operatives.
“I’ve got him,” she said, sending her coordinates.
This had been a dangerous operation and it hadn’t gone according to plan. One of her team had been shot and injured; she still didn’t know how badly. She didn’t know if the hostage was hurt. Would her bosses think she’d handled it correctly?
As these worries raced through her mind, Katie’s phone buzzed. Grabbing it, she saw it was a text from her immediate boss, FBI Senior Special Agent Andrews.
“Winter, I need to see you urgently. Meet me in the office as soon as you can.”
- Writer
